


you've got me thinking 'bout the things i'd do for you

by gilligankane



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 09:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Thisthingbetween them has been fun but tonight feels like the edge of a knife that Vanessa has just tipped over the other side of, and everything feels different.Charitydefended her.Charitydefendedher.Charity defendedher.





	you've got me thinking 'bout the things i'd do for you

**Author's Note:**

> All the blame rests on heartsways shoulders, for requesting writing. Honest, that's what she asked for.
> 
> Takes place on 21 December 2018, between Charity telling Vanessa to meet her downstairs and the "in a couple'll weeks, I'll be bored of ya" conversation.

Charity huffs as Vanessa crests the bottom step, the door clicking behind her at the top of the stairs. “Did you _count_ the bloody seconds?”

Vanessa tries to act indignant; _Charity_ is the one who told her to come down here. _Charity_ is the one who told her to wait two minutes and now she’s tapping her foot impatiently, eyebrows raised expectantly, nodding in the direction of the chair Vanessa is too familiar with like Vanessa is the one desperate to get on with… _whatever_ they’re doing.

“Wouldn’t want anyone to think I was coming down after you, would I?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

Charity’s eyes flash, one corner of her mouth curling up. “Ashamed of me, babe?”

Vanessa leans back minutely, studying Charity’s face.

“Everyone already knows we’ve slept together,” Charity continues. She rolls her eyes when Vanessa looks away, scowling. “Which I’ve _already_ said sorry over, thank you.”

Vanessa can feel her cheeks burn hot. She remembers _exactly_ how Charity apologized for that; how she’d stolen the air from Vanessa’s lungs time after time until Vanessa pushed her away and declared her forgiven; how Charity had taken her apart just once more, for good measure.

“Ashamed,” Vanessa repeats. She shakes her head. “No.”

Charity’s eyes narrow into dark green slits. “If you’re so worried about my business, you’d do best to just invest.” She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, letting it go with a soft, wet _pop_ . “Imagine the _business meetings_ we could have.”

Vanessa’s mouth twitches. “Cheeky mare,” she rasps. She moves closer anyway, eyes on the curve of Charity’s mouth. She’s been staring since Charity smiled at her upstairs, teasing her about two-timing her.

“Come ‘ere,” Charity instructs, her fingers curling over Vanessa’s arm. She unlocks them, placing one of Vanessa’s hands on her shoulder, letting the other one hang between them. She rests her own hands at the small of Vanessa’s waist, sliding them down over the fabric of her jacket and then under the hem, finding the waistband of Vanessa’s skirt. “Have I said I like this skirt?”

Vanessa is already shaking her head, anticipating Charity’s terrible follow-up.

“But I’d like it better on the floor, yeah?”

Vanessa rolls her eyes, moving to step back.

Charity’s hands tighten at her waist, keeping her in place. “Should I be worried you dress up like this for _Veronica_ , but not me?” she asks.

“Business meeting,” Vanessa says, distracted by the soft, staticky beat Charity is drumming into her skin.

“All the more reason to invest,” Charity breathes. “If I get to see you all smart like this more often.”

Vanessa feigns shock. “You don’t like my wardrobe?”

“Bit much in the way of sunshine,” Charity says.

“This is _pink_ ,” Vanessa points out.

“But it has a _zip_ ,” Charity fires back, lifting her eyebrow suggestively.

“So do my dungarees.”

Charity wrinkles her nose. “I prefer my dirty talk to have a bit less muck.” Charity’s hands dust over the rise of her hip bone, making a point. Vanessa shudders, fighting a smile at the sudden shock it produces. Charity pauses, her eyebrows knitting in curiosity, and she does it again, her fingernails scraping bluntly over the bone.

A noise builds in Vanessa’s chest and pushes up past her lips, breaking into the air between them.

Charity’s eyes widen and she smiles, delighted. “Ticklish, are you?”

“Charity,” Vanessa warns.

Charity presses her palm flat over Vanessa’s hip, squeezing softly. “I won’t,” she promises.

It makes Vanessa pause, her fingertips sliding off the zip of Charity’s blouse. “Why?” she asks carefully.

“I reckon we’ve got five minutes before they start clamouring for top ups up there,” Charity starts. “And I’m not going to spend it-”

Vanessa shakes her head. “No. No. Why…” She breathes in, trying to calm the wobble in her stomach. “Why did you stick up for me. With Veronica,” she clarifies.

Charity shrugs a shoulder carelessly, but her eyes are dark and guarded. “She was a right cow, wasn’t she?”

“Thought you quite liked that about people,” Vanessa says casually. Her smoothes her fingers over the silk of Charity’s blouse. She likes the way it feels, when she scratches her nails over the fabric. Charity’s body twitches, just enough for Vanessa to feel it echo into the palm of her hands.

“Well, maybe I _don’t_ like it when people’re being right cows to…” Charity trails off, her lips pursing as she searches for a word. “To you,” she finally breathes out, looking over Vanessa’s shoulder.

The wobble in her stomach turns into a full somersault and for a moment, Vanessa is sure she’s tumbling end over end. Hope builds in her chest, pressing hard against her ribs.

This _thing_ between them has been happening for about a month now, picking up after Isaac’s baptism where it left off after the first time. A month of midday messages, late nights sneaking into the Woolpack, and early mornings sneaking back into Tug Ghyll.

A part of her wants more than that; more than these stolen moments in between their jobs and their kids. A part of her wants to dress up in her date trousers, the ones that she has to shimmy into, to pick Charity up for a night out. A part of her wants Charity to tease her about seeing other people and soothe the sting with a kiss, right at the bar, for everyone to see.

Another part of her knows that Charity Dingle doesn’t keep any secret she doesn’t want to, and if she’s keeping Vanessa as one, it can only mean Charity doesn’t want the same thing she does.

“I mean, honestly,” Charity continues. “The nerve of her. ‘ _Wafting_ through life, taking the easy option’,” Charity mocks, an arm flying up as she mimics Veronica. She scowls immediately. “She knows nothing about you,” Charity repeats.

Something hot and aggravating slices through Vanessa and her mouth sours. “And _you_ do?”

Charity narrows her eyes, confused. “Uh, yeah, babe, I do,” she says, laughing. “Like, you go mad for this.” She gestures at the sliver of skin her blouse exposes, starting to peel the zip down further.

Vanessa moves to twist out of Charity’s grasp, frustration clawing at the pit of her stomach. Veronica’s insults are still fresh, like papercuts on her fingertips, and Charity’s laugh is like acid in the grooves.

“And,” Charity says quickly, stepping forward to match Vanessa’s step back. “I know how you like your coffee.”

“Because I _order_ it,” Vanessa says. “From the pub. Where you work.”

“I know you prefer a pint when you’ve had a long day,” Charity continues, ignoring Vanessa’s reponse. “And when you get stroppy, your nose-”

“It twitches,” Vanessa says impatiently. “I know.”

Charity lifts an eyebrow, a solitary delicate arch. “Like now,” she says slowly.

Vanessa sighs again, her hands over Charity’s. She peels her fingers back, trying to get free again. “I’ve got to go apologize to Veronica,” she tries.

“Are you joking?” Charity asks. She barks out a loud. “‘Ness, she was a prat to you. She was a prat to _me_.”

“Because it’s _all_ about you, yeah?” Vanessa mutters.

Charity frowns. “Babe, what’s happening here?”

Vanessa sighs, letting her frustration seep out in her exhale. “I’m worried Rhona’ll be upset about Veronica,” she says, admitting some part of the truth. “She’s good business and-”

“And I mucked it up, is that it?” Charity finishes bitterly.

“No,” Vanessa says quickly. She steps back into Charity’s space, her hands insistent at Charity’s neck, pressing until Charity looks up to meet her eyes. “ _Veronica_ mucked it up, talking about-” She stops herself. _Pound Shop-Kim Basinger_ , Veronica had called Charity. The insult to Marlon had slipped under her skin but the sneer on Veronica’s face when she’d looked at Charity cut through Vanessa in a way that made her clench her hand into a fist against her thigh.

“About what?” Charity prompts, licking her bottom lip.

Vanessa watches the motion, blinking before she registers that Charity is speaking. “S’no matter,” she mutters. “She was wrong.”

“Right you are,” Charity coos. She sways in, her mouth hovering close to Vanessa’s. She groans when Vanessa leans away. “Listen, babe. She’s not worth it. She was _wrong_ , yeah? You said it yourself.” She tucks a long strand of hair behind Vanessa’s ear, her eyes softening. “You’re worth a _hundred_ of her.”

“Charity,” Vanessa starts. The mood has changed now and she feels a bit like she’s losing her mind with Charity standing so close.

“I know that you’re worth a hundred of her,” Charity repeats. “And I know that you’ve got a hundred tiny freckles that lead all the way down your-” She stops, winking when Vanessa glares at her. “I know you like videos of hamsters, for reasons I can’t, nor want, to be able to explain. I know you have the patience of a saint, working with the likes of Paddy. I know how you take your coffee because I pay attention to _you_ , not your money.” Her eyes darken, heavy. “I know Chas’d like the profit, but I prefer when your tips are more…

Vanessa looks down, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Charity’s fingers curl around the edge of her jaw, lifting her head. Vanessa’s eyes cut over Charity’s shoulder. That feeling is back, the same fluttering of hope from before. Charity’s gaze is hot against her skin and it makes Vanessa want something she can’t name; something she _won’t_ name, in case she accidentally says the words out loud.

This _thing_ between them has been fun but tonight feels like the edge of a knife that Vanessa has just tipped over the other side of, and everything feels _different_.

_Charity_ defended her.

Charity _defended_ her.

Charity defended _her_.

Charity told Veronica to leave - for insulting the food and the drinks, maybe, but also for insulting _Vanessa_.  

Rhona’ll probably make her go out to Veronica’s and apologise, but Charity’s voice will be in the back of her head the whole time, reminding her that Veronica is a sour-faced witchy looking thing who doesn’t know her.

Not like _Charity_ knows her.

“That’s it?” Vanessa asks, her whisper booming against the cellar walls.

“Well, you’re not half terrible to look at,” Charity murmurs. “And like I said, _good_ kisser.”

Vanessa’s stomach turns over and the feeling is too much. She leans in, her kiss too hard and too left of center to count for much.  _ Good kisser _ , she thinks bitterly as Charity gasps softly and follows Vanessa’s lips, finding the corner of them. Charity’s hand tightens at the base of her neck and pulls her closer. 

Vanessa’s hands find Charity’s zip again, tugging it eagerly. Charity laughs when Vanessa ducks her head, mouthing a hot line along her neck to Charity’s collarbone. Vanessa feels it under her lips, the soft rumble of Charity’s chest. It’s  _ intoxicating _ . Charity is warm and pliant under her hands and her mouth, gasping and sighing as Vanessa follows the cut of the zip on Charity’s blouse.

“Babe,” Charity tries, her voice breaking around the word. “Bit eager, innit?”

Vanessa ignores her, pushing forward and forcing Charity back. She slides around a barrel and a corner and when she breathes hard against Charity’s neck, she spots the chair Charity had been looking at earlier.

Charity turns quickly and pushes at Vanessa’s shoulders, grinning when Vanessa falls back into the chair. She knows her eyes are wide, that her hair is a mess, that she’s staring up at Charity like she has the answers to every question Vanessa has ever been afraid to ask. Charity smiles wider, settling a knee down over Vanessa’s lap. Vanessa licks her bottom lip and surges up, pulling Charity closer. Charity plants her hand on the top of the chair just beside Vanessa’s head, her other hand in Vanessa’s hair.

Charity grinds her hips down, her body arching forward against Vanessa’s so that her belt buckle presses into Vanessa’s stomach.. Vanessa winds her fingers around Charity’s wrist, grasping for something to steady the swell in her stomach.

Vanessa’s other hand slides under the hem of Charity’s blouse, feeling the soft muscles ripple under her fingers. She licks and nips at the skin just above the line of Charity’s bra, soaking in the sounds Charity is making - the soft moans she’s crazy about, the gasp she feels in the pit of her stomach, the sigh she nearly misses. Vanessa’s body hums with the knowledge that  _ she _ can make Charity fall apart like that; that  _ she _ has the power to move her hand and her mouth and make Charity rise and fall against her.

She moves her hand up over the swell of Charity’s breast, scraping her teeth along the soft skin of Charity’s chest.

Someone gasps and it’s not Charity.

Her head snaps up, her forehead nearly cracking on Charity’s chin, and she feels a rush of anger spike into the pit of her stomach as she takes in Paddy, standing meters away.

“Oh, I, uh. Well.” Paddy stumbles through his words. “Right, then. I’ll be… Yes.” He turns sharply and disappears back up the stairs.

“Paddy, you  _ pillock _ ,” Charity growls at his retreating back, pushing up off the chair. She stands, a hand absently drifting down to help Vanessa up.

Vanessa ignores the fluttering in her stomach and tries to forget the way Charity’s hand stays in hers until they reach the top of the stairs and she remembers she should wipe her mouth.

 

-

Vanessa rambles nervously, unsure of what she’s even saying. Charity stares at her oddly, eyes narrowed as if Vanessa is tap-dancing in a tutu next to a Cain in a vicars frock. 

“Uh, Charity. I don’t want any misunderstandings,” she says.

Charity makes a face, ‘ _ get on with it _ .’

Vanessa swallows hard. “This was fun, but, well, uh, it’s not like we’re suddenly a couple,” she breathes, wincing even as she speaks.

Charity gives her a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. Couple’ll weeks, I’ll be bored of ya.” She snorts softly and turns, leaving Vanessa alone at the bar.

Vanessa can feel herself getting smaller, folding in as she tries to reconcile the woman downstairs with the woman in front of her. They have the same hair, the same beauty mark just above a breastbone Vanessa knows well. They have the same dip of a collarbone her fingers can trace by heart. But the smile is different, and the eyes aren’t exactly the same.  _ This _ woman is the one Vanessa knows well - the one who seduced her father and showed no remorse for it; who outed her to a full pub before she even knew that  _ out _ was something she might want to be. The woman downstairs is the one Vanessa  _ wants _ to know better - the one with soft hands and softer eyes; who whispered in her ear that she was better than a hundred Veronicas.

She can feel her face fall and she tries to hide it, looking down into her pint. If Charity’s nail stung as they dragged over the knot of her spine, her words sting worse.

Charity defended her, but it didn’t  _ mean _ anything. A bunk-up, maybe. A quick fumble. A way for Charity to get a leg over on shift, or whenever she fancies.

Vanessa huffs, pushing her half-empty pint glass across the bar and spins on the stool, turning gracelessly and sliding down until her feet touch the floor. Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pauses in the middle of the pub, fishing it out and reading the message on the screen.

_ Pick up where we left off? I’m off at 7 _ .

Vanessa looks back over her shoulder at Charity, leaning against the till, eyes trained on her phone and the corner of her mouth turned up.

_ Got Johnny _ , she messages back. She looks up again and watches Charity’s mouth turn down; watches the skin between her eyes wrinkle in confusion.

Vanessa lifts her chin, takes a deep breath, and leaves the pub.

Her phone buzzes again in her pocket and she ignores it.


End file.
